


we should just kiss like real people do

by nraycinap



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/F, Femslash, How Do I Tag, Ineffable Wives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 16:51:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18473095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nraycinap/pseuds/nraycinap
Summary: I like to call this one: the author is a useless lesbian who cant stop fucking thinking about Good Omensft. frequent abuse of verb tense by the authorone hundred percent unedited and unbetaed babey!





	we should just kiss like real people do

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so rabid rn because I spent an hour writing this while listening to Hozier's entire discography, and also Like Real People Do is such an Aziraphale/Crowley song but y'all are sleepin on it

Crowley breathed in shakily, her face buried deeply into Aziraphale's musty wool blouse. The two were in Aziraphale's library, laid out on the horrid beige couch Aziraphale refused to get rid of, wine bottles scattered around them on Aziraphale's precious ornate Persian rug. Aziraphale was humming. 

Crowley leaned in closer to Aziraphale, trying to absorb all of her. Aziraphale radiated warmth, overwhelmingly so. Crowley wanted to drown in it. Being near Aziraphale was like being wrapped in weighted blankets with a fine cup of hot cocoa, or sitting underneath a particularly pleasant heat lamp. Crowley suspected it was all part of Aziraphale's divine.. what have you.

A very specific warmth. 

Love.

Aziraphale radiated love. Not just the love for all men He requires, but a comfortable sort of love that doesn't push. It doesn't demand. 

A love that makes Crowley giddy just thinking about, even without copious amounts of alcohol in her system.

Crowely feels the need to touch Aziraphale somehow.

Groaning, she lifts her head up to rest her chin on Aziraphale's breast. Golden brown eyes glance down at her, soft and content. Aziraphale stops humming. 

"Thank you for treating me to dinner tonight dear." Aziraphale's chest rumbles as she talks, making Crowley even more drowsy. 

"Mm. 'Ssmy pleassure." 

Drunk on wine and Crowley's presence Aziraphale grins and her eyes crinkle with delight. She feels grateful. 

She's radiant. Crowley thinks, eyes drifting closed momentarily, suddenly overcome with emotion.  
"I love you" She murmurs. Adding "dear", not as an afterthought, but as a promise. 

"Je t'adore."

"Ani Ohevet Otan."

"Habib Albi."

Crowley snorts. "S'agapo." As she taps Aziraphale's elbow, signaling her to bring her hands to her face. 

Aziraphale raises an eyebrow, but removes her hands from their residence on Crowley's waist, bringing them up. Crowley smiles, taking hold of her left hand and bringing it to her lips, making shy eye contact with Aziraphale all the while. When Aziraphale first feels Crowley's mouth brush against her soft knuckles she shivers. Crowley grins and continues placing kiss after kiss on Aziraphale's plump hands. Kiss after kiss trailing down. Starting at the knuckles, soon reaching her wrist.  
Aziraphale smiles tenderly, reaching out a trembling right hand to stroke Crowley's back. The weight of Aziraphale's arm resting on her shoulder feels like an assurance. 

It feels as though they could hold each other like this forever.  
In little ways, Crowley muses, they already have been.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tired.
> 
>  
> 
> also: this is the first thing I've posted on Ao3! Baby's first! Please feel free to leave constructive criticism because God knows I'm not a writer but I'd love to improve. If there are any linguistic errors please let me know!


End file.
